My Age of Fatherhood

June 28, 2017

By Vincent J. Fitzgerald

Parenthood was the furthest thing on my mind when you were thrust upon me, but I undertook the charge, and its grown-up responsibilities, because part of me desired to be a grown up. You were fragile, vulnerable, and needed me close. Fatherhood was the first time in my life someone needed me to survive, and although often confounded by its tasks, I adapted, and was saved from reckless games my peers played. I never looked back, fixed my eyes on you, and hoped your future bright.

Divorce darkened that future for a while, but I remained a steady presence during the death of our family. Infidelity and deception devastated you, and although you had grown some, you still needed my shoulder to provide your tears a place to land. The whole affair rocked you at peak suggestibility, and although my wounds were also deep, I ignored them to ensure I tended to yours.

You had been hospitalized for a million days during which I prayed for your return. The moment you felt the victory of verdure, we imploded, and I feared you would return to where people never smiled, and medicine was measured by voltage. It was more worry than could fit in me, but mine was a malleable mind, and it expanded to the point of burst synapse.

You survived, and as you continued to grow, anger overtook you, and you spat venom toward the deserter. Your slights shredded my ears, so I implored you to believe good lives in people who do bad things. But your anger was omnipotent, and I wondered if love was worth the agony, or should it be left to the dreamers. Guilt dictated I swallow your rage, and own responsibility for your hurt. I spent summers wondering who I crossed to cause so potent a curse to be visited upon us.

As time passed, we fused as we healed. We spent days walking the avenues, and nights in front of our favorite shows. The time you required of me left me sequestered from my friends, none of whom grasped the gravitas of responsibility for a human being susceptible to sadness and sickness. I was naïve to think lost time could be recouped, because no one ever told me time only moves in one direction.

When the day arrived, I was ill prepared for your readiness to be untethered. You explored the world, found friends, and gravitated toward faith that shifted your devotion away from me. I was proud because you represented our family well, and grew reputable in our community. You met a man who extracted the best from you, but who pulled you further away. Change was a jagged swallow, but you were only meant to be mine for so long before you had to reach your potential.

I suppose happiness should have been all I felt, but anger and melancholy intruded more often than I care to admit. The moment you discovered your worth to the world, you ghosted the person whose sacrifice fostered your growth. I was lost, unsure of my potential, and without purpose.

When I look back, Mom, I’m not sure if you could ever grasp how hard it was to raise you when I was the child. I took it as a privilege to nurture you through depression I dare not allow send you back to syringes and restraints. It was my honor to be your rock when my father left, listen as you eviscerated him, and suggested I subtract myself from his life even though he was my only father.

It has taken years to work through my disdain for authority because I was crowned the authority at too young an age, Perhaps I found control hard to relinquish. I was forced to grow up at an age when people make terrible grownups, and it took me years to accept all I missed. I know we don’t see each other as much as you wish, but I hope you are happy for my achievements the way I will always be of yours. My distance is not born of apathy, but is a reclamation of lost time, and an opportunity to feed myself the way I once fed you. Maybe years in my role as precocious father hindered my capacity to serve you as a grown-up son.

Vincent J. Fitzgerald is a writer and a psychotherapist, who loves to merge his passions in writing.

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Jennifer Pastiloff, Beauty Hunter, is a writer and yoga teacher living with her husband in Los Angeles and soon to be son, when she’s not on an airplane. She travels the world with her Manifestation Retreats/Workshops On Being Human- a hybrid of yoga, writing, sharing out loud, and occasionally a dance party, as well as a workshop for young women called "Girl Power: You Are Enough."
It's an experience that has been described as NOT "woo-woo,", heart-mending and sometimes messy- just like life. You do not have to be a good yogi, or writer. Just a human being with a body. Jen has been featured on Good Morning America, New York Magazine, CBS News and more for her unique style of teaching. She studied poetry and writing at NYU and Bucknell University and is currently finishing her first book and is represented by Adriann Ranta at Foundry Media. She tweets/instagrams at @jenpastiloff.

1 Comment

Insightful twists in voice and roles thrust upon us are represented here. The narrator is still finding his way, and will continue to with a strong acceptance. Yes, “time only moves in one direction.” While that’s a pity – we can’t recapture what’s lost – it’s also liberating. We are not stuck. Thank you for sharing.

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About Jen Pastiloff

People Magazine says: Jennifer is changing women's lives through her empowerment workshops.
Cheryl Strayed says: Jennifer Pastiloff is a conduit of awakenings.
Lidia Yuknavitch says: Dear Jen, From you I have learned to alchemize fear with love, to redistribute love through compassion, to enter a room with others.
Jen leads her signature Manifestation Workshop: On Being Human all over the world & online. Her memoir will be published by Dutton Books in 2019. Preorders available now at JenniferPastiloff.com
Her workshops are a unique blend of writing and some yoga. She has developed a massive following based on her writing & workshops.
A London workshop attendee says, "A space to show up and be human. A fusion of yoga and singing and writing and sharing, with laughter and tears mixed in! To be held and encouraged so beautifully by Jen, who won't flinch....but stay connected to us all through the journey. She creates a strong container, sits on the edges of our yoga mats listening to the stories that weave us together as human beings. She gives us the gift of attention, space and time.
It's a space for connecting, for intimacy...you leave in a different place from where you arrive...It's a chance to show up, to own our fears and our dreams, our deep yearnings and the things we'd love to manifest in our lives. A chance to be wholeheartedly present and come back home a little more to ourselves."
Jen also leads retreats with Emily Rapp & Lidia Yuknavitch. She is also the guest speaker at Canyon Ranch three times a year. All info is at the top under Retreats/Workshops.Donate below to our scholarship fund to help send someone to a workshop/retreat who can't afford to attend.

About Angela M Giles

Angela M Giles is an editor and fellow badass at The Manifest-Station. Angela prides herself on being exactly who she is: An accidental warrior working to make grace and kindness sexy again. In her day job as a senior executive at an investment firm, she navigates the patriarchy, the glass ceiling, and government regulations with surprising ease and unapologetic language. By night she reads and writes and listens to music and occasionally sleeps. Her full-time passion is her son, who is proof that her heart exists outside her body.
She has had her work appear online at The Nervous Breakdown, Literary Mothers, Medium: Human Parts as well as other journals. She has been featured in print at The Healing Muse and is a contributor to Shades of Blue, an anthology on depression and suicide from Seal Press. Angela tweets and is on Instagram as @angela.m.giles, and when inspired updates her blog, Air Hunger (http://airhunger.net). Angela lives in Massachusetts where she conquers the world, one day at a time.

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3 days agoby jenpastiloffJust bit through my tongue at lunch because apparently I’m still learning how to eat. Also, Charlie scratched himself & his school sent him home & said I had to take him to doctor & get a note for him to return. I guess it looks like a rash? Anyway, how’s your Tuesday? I’m just here bleeding and missing tastebuds. My fake lashes look nuts but I can only be in one place at a time so I had to cancel my appointment (sorry @ginasbeverlyhills ) and oh yea, C needs tubes in his ears (like I did) because he

11 hours agoby jenpastiloffIt’s really not hard. Look for ways. Be that person. We’re lifted up often by the simplest of things. They don’t have to cost money. When I take my head out of my ass I see so many opportunities to support, to help, to serve, to love. You in? Do the thing.

2 days agoby jenpastiloffCharlie Mel & my Daddy Mel have always known each other. I love this moment. 2 years ago. I wish my dad was alive to see both my son & book be born. Life, huh?! #onbeinghuman

22 hours agoby jenpastiloffLast night I had the absolute privilege of hearing @roxanegay74 in conversation with @marlonjameswriter . I use the word “hear” loosely as I read lips & I really struggled. I snagged a front row seat but there was a speaker blocking Roxane so I couldn’t see her face to read her lips. I kept leaning into the woman next to me & apologizing. I tend to not go to events like this because it’s so hard for me to hear but I’m so happy I went. I got to meet both of them! @roxanegay74 is a shero of mine & my